


He Slayed 'Em

by sunflower1343



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower1343/pseuds/sunflower1343
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Yamane Ayano LJ community Career Fest. The request was for Takaba to be a ninja assassin out to kill Asami (who had to be something other than a crime lord). I decided to pick an impossible profession for Asami and try to make it work. It turned out much darker than I expected. And kind of insane. (Includes three short omake)</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Slayed 'Em

Silence in the club was normally a relative thing, whispers of exchanged numbers, clinking glasses, chairs squeaking against the grungy tile floor, but that night when the yellow patch of a hanging light suddenly shimmied upon the blackness of the stage the silence was absolute. It came from different places, anticipation, lust, fear, and from a few even terror. From one at the back though it came from a hatred so deep that other club patrons edged away, sensing that whatever came out onto the stage it couldn't be as bad as the darkness that stood beside them.

He turned his hands to the rough denim of his black jeans and wiped the sweat off. This shouldn't be happening. He was a professional. But he'd looked forward to this for years and the anticipation was almost more than he could bear.

There was a shuffling offstage and, though he didn't think it possible, the room grew even more quiet. He could hear his hand as he slid it into his pocket and fingered the cool cylinder of the syringe. But the plastic slipped from his grasp as his target sauntered onto the stage, hideous white paint on his face, cigarette hanging from the red gash painted in mimicry of a smile.

There was an collective gasp from the audience.

The eyes looking down at them were scornful and mocking. "What? Haven't you ever seen a clown before?"

His teeth ground together. He fucking hated clowns. And one that made a mockery of everything he held in esteem? Yeah...

_"... and that's how he managed the greatest number of kills using a single shuriken. No one has come close to the record since."_

_"But sensei, his method—"_

_"Was unconventional, Takaba-kun, yes, and the client was displeased that the blood spatters *ahem* happened to spell out the first verse of Ninety-nine Mafia Heads on the Floor." The class laughed, and he couldn't help joining in. "Nonetheless..."_

_"It wasn't professional."_

_"No. Nor is it the sign of a healthy mind. And that is why he was dismissed from the guild. And why, Takaba-kun, you and the rest of the class will be expected to write papers about the roles that ritual and solemn purpose play in our way of life..."_

Asami had done it any number of times before he'd been thrown out, flouting the conventions, doing things his own way for a cheap laugh, robbing the target of his dignity. And Takaba couldn't help it. He'd heard the stories and laughed too and even admired the guy a little, all the while hating himself for it. It should never be a funny thing to take a life. That would be insane.

No, they held to their rituals for a reason. It held the darkness at bay, a constant struggle for those in their profession. They'd all felt the control slip from time to time. It was considered their greatest sin. And yet Asami hadn't just let his slip; he'd actively thrown it away and embraced the madness. 

The general public knew nothing of this of course. _Asami Ryuichi. "Genius." "Scathingly honest critic of society." Bullshit. He's just one fucked-up bastard. And his new profession is aimed squarely at his old guild. Aimed at ninja like me, who take our jobs seriously. Fucking clown..._

The gaze that had been upon the audience shot up over their heads straight to where he was standing. He took a startled step back, further into the shadows. 

"You hate clowns, don't you?"

_What the...?_

"Yet every morning you stand in front of mirrors and turn yourselves into them." He drew on his cigarette, his eyes moving back to the audience in front of him. "When evening comes you all show up here, elites, intelligentsia, all wanting to hear how evil modern society is. All wanting to be above it. But it's not about what society does to you. It's what you've done to society. You're the rot on the tree that needs to be cut out, the false growth. Assassins are probably the most useful people on the planet, pruning away dead meat."

Takaba froze. There was some nervous laughter from the audience. 

"The best ones add an element of torture, peeling back the thick layers you hide behind. The ones you never admit you have. You, in the blue jacket. Think how much I could discover if we started taking off the masks you wear. Would your wife object, or would she join in when you started screaming of your mistress?"

A voice called out from the audience. "I thought you were supposed to be funny?"

Asami lifted an eyebrow, flicking some ashes away. "I am. I'm hysterical. Didn't they check your intelligence at the door? You obviously don't get the jokes." He looked to the side, offstage. "Who let this one in?"

Other audience members laughed, happy they weren't being judged for the moment. He shot them a withering look.

"As if the likes of you have anything to be laughing at. If you got the jokes you wouldn't be here in the first place. The only reason any of us have to be happy is that one of you is going to die tonight and relieve us of his presence. "

Asami like playing with his audience, dark tricks. Sometimes they disappeared. Sometimes, on rare occasion, they didn't come back. The police had never been able to prove anything though. His act drew audiences like moths to flame, and they'd swear falsely to anything their god claimed. Even that they had done it instead of him.

"It won't be me! It's what you're all thinking. Hiding behind your false self-confidence. Thinking you'll be the one to outsmart me. When the only way to outsmart me is staying safe in the bosoms of your friends." His gaze again flickered over deathly-still Takaba, a flame heating his skin.

 _His act. It's only his act._ He took a deep breath and glanced down at his watch. It was almost time to end this. His hand again caressed what was in his pocket. The only bad thing about killing him was that he wouldn't get to see the look on his face after the fact, acknowledging his accomplishment. It would almost be funny.

He squashed the thought and kept himself from giggling hysterically.

"You're worse than I am. At least I admit I'm wearing a mask."

Takaba's eyes nervously flicked up and again found himself meeting the intense look of a man who couldn't possibly be seeing him.

"And I'm not afraid to stand in front of you and take it off."

The comedian pulled one of his hands from his pocket and toyed with his garish silk necktie. His long fingers were covered in a supple white leather that Takaba could almost feel on his skin. Asami slipped the knot down and began pulling it free from his neck, the rasp of it audible at the back of the lounge. By the time the length reached two meters the crowd began tittering. That died a little when it ended a moment later in a noose. Asami let it dangle for a moment. "I don't suppose anyone would volunteer...?" After a moment his lip curled. "I didn't think so." He started to fold the silk.

"I will."

Takaba was shocked to hear himself volunteering. The plan was to slip up behind him after the show, quick, anonymous, silent. He never let the target see his face. But this time he had to. With this one it had always been something personal. 

Asami had stopped dead upon hearing his voice, then his head had slowly raised, a hellish light in his eyes. His voice dropped a register to become dark and caressing. "Will you...? Will you let me place the silk around your neck?"

Takaba could already feel the bonds there, pulling him forward. He had for a long time, ever since he'd first seen the performances on television as a boy; he swore that moment that if the chance came, he'd take it. He'd show Asami how death was dealt, that it was solemn and beautiful even at the ugliest moments. That day when the contract had slid across the desk from his superiors he'd almost come on the spot. 

That was why it _had_ to end. Tonight he was going to cut himself free. 

He hopped lightly onto the stage, ready to jump out of the way and act if he had to. But before he could do more than muster a thought Asami had him spun about, his hands out of his pockets and over his head, the silk wrapped around them. "So eager to die?" the man murmured into his ear from behind, standing close. Asami's right hand slipped to his chin, the soft leather hiding a strong grip as he forced Takaba to look out toward the crowd. He couldn't see a thing. _How could he have...?_

"How about a round of applause for the young man who wants to end his life so cheaply," Asami's sardonic words rang out through the room. The audience, thinking it was a gag, applauded enthusiastically.

Teeth tugged gently at his ear lobe before words were mouthed quietly into it. "They love you. It's always best to die at your peak. You'll live forever that way." 

"Of course you'll clap for him," Asami's voice boomed from the stage again. "He has the _balls_ to do what each of you should be doing to end your own pathetic lives." His left hand had dropped and with teasing fingers was lightly outlining Takaba's hard-on. Takaba was on the verge of coming in his pants.

"Wait," the words came softly into his hair, "until I start to strangle you. It will be so much more intense."

Semen leaked copiously from the end of his cock. There was nasty laughter as the stain appeared. They thought he'd pissed himself.

He suddenly realized that one hand was on his chin, another between his legs- meaning nothing was holding his hands. He tugged at them but to his dismay they were now tied to something over his head. He squinted upward only to have his view blocked by that white face, not so horrible now that he saw it close, maybe even handsome. He tried imagining it without the paint, then shook his head. 

Asami spoke, low, intimately. "Changing your mind? But you’d disappoint the audience so... They want death and blood, just like you."

His senses sharpened as a finger glided across his lips, silencing his questions.

"Who do you think hired you to be here?"

The hair on his arms stood on end.

"How do you think, my pretty assassin, someone would know the ways of the guild enough to find you?" he was asked with quiet laughter.

He didn't like the only answer he found.

"Plain kills are boring. But killing someone who's trying to kill you, all in front of an audience while they think it's a show, now that's entertainment!"

Asami released him and turned to the audience with a flourish of his hands, speaking now to them. "And that's what the little monsters here are wanting to see. Look at them drooling, panting for blood." He stopped and stuck his hands into his pockets, then prowled along the edge of the stage, looking at Takaba. "They're all such boring lumps of meat. Their only redemption is that occasionally there's a mutation and something unique springs forth from them. Something like you." He bent close again. "You sparkled so the first time I saw you make a kill. Clumsy yet so emotional."

Takaba bit the inside of his cheek. "Your words are poison," he hissed. "You've made people die worthlessly because of them."

"Have I?" Asami seemed unaffected. "Have I pulled the trigger on their insignificant lives, just because I was _mean_ to them? Poor kittens. Weak kittens. It was better that they died early, I think."

"You're insane."

"Well, yes. Is this supposed to be news? You're so delightfully naïve. Perhaps..." 

He turned back to the audience. "Would you like to let him live? He's quite adorable." Cries of "No" and "Kill him" inundated the stage. 

But one young couple stood and faced him, the younger of the men yelling, "What kind of people are you? Of course he should live. Hey kid, come on down from there. Let us get you some help."

He shook his head slightly. The mission wasn't complete. _He_ wasn't complete. He had to stay and see it through to the end.

"Leave." Asami's cold command froze any replies they might have made. They stared at him until the audience's booing at them for holding up the show made them retreat. Their opponent didn't move until the club door had closed behind them.

Asami looked over his shoulder with tender eyes. "You see? I'm not so bad." He faced the clamoring mass and waving his hands, made a large bouquet of roses appear. 

"This is, I regret to announce, my final appearance." Boos rose up from the crowd. Asami placed his free hand over his heart and bowed slightly. "I'd planned something special, but in acting it out discovered an even more brilliant work of art already in progress. And you, my dears, are destined to be part of it." He began tossing the flowers at them, mementos for all his fans, as they cheered him on.

Roses dispersed, he returned to his bound victim. "It's time." He again stood directly behind him, but this time one hand was at the noose at his throat. The other again traced the seam on his jeans that held the zipper.

Takaba felt the noose tighten. He tried to relax, to think of any plan that would get him out of this, but the fingers tugging at his zipper then dipping inside to find his hard flesh wouldn't let him think of anything else. The sounds of the crowd faded, slowly dying to a murmur that was punctuated by the occasional scream. His universe was a silk noose, a hand, and a voice in his ear. "That's it, my lovely one. You've courted death so beautifully, it was time death courted you."

The hand on him tightened and bent him slightly forward, his loosened jeans falling past his hips. Something slipped across the sensitive skin behind him that no one had ever touched, and entered, thick, hot, painful until he instinctively welcomed it.

He shouldn't have wanted it. He shouldn't have pushed back against it, trying to drive it deeper, but it was the loss of oxygen, he told himself. It was a dementia he couldn't help that made him crave and thrust his hips more frantically.

"Yes... I knew this is how it would be with you..."

Teeth bit onto the back of his neck as the hand on the noose moved to cover his mouth and nose. The fist below squeezed the base of his cock, pressing him just so, making his knees fail even as he was held up so the violent pounding from behind could continue. He tried struggling, but there was nothing left inside that would respond to him. His body seemed to be obeying another brain as pleasure gathered at the base of his spine and slowly shot through him, stiffening his muscles in one last act of ecstasy before he collapsed and fell, his vision darkening. How appropriate, he thought, that the last thing he was to feel was a hot thick liquid oozing from his ass as Asami pulled his spent cock from him. His muscles clenched, trying to keep some inside so he could at least take a piece of Asami with him.

 

\--

 

The papers the next morning screamed of the tragedy in the Shinjuku nightclub and the world famous clown who was now the most wanted fugitive in the country. Oddly, no one had a picture of him without the makeup, and they couldn't quite agree upon his appearance. 

But pictures of the nightmare he'd left behind covered the screens of the news stations. People couldn't get enough of the horror. Poison, they said. A very diluted poison solution on the flowers. Anyone breathing the scent for more than a minute or two would die, blood gushing from all parts of their bodies as cell walls failed. One cop said it was like they'd been treated with meat tenderizer.

The young couple who'd been kicked out of the club during the act were the toast of the nation, repeating their story on every news show, heroes of a sort. People nodded wisely and said their good actions had been returned threefold. They thanked fortune for getting them out of that mess and saving their lives.

"Fortune. And here I was just trying to be nice for once by letting the kind ones escape." Asami turned to the bed where his gagged and furious captive was tied. "Oh, don't be that way. I saved your life too. If you'd breathed the air any more than I'd allowed you'd be lying there with the rest of them. Of course, the guild doesn't appreciate the publicity, but I'm sure they'll be teaching this in their classrooms for centuries to come. Your name will live forever with mine." That last was said incredibly sarcastically.

Takaba put all the hatred into his eyes that he could, trying to pierce the now cleaned visage hovering over his. It only got him a fond look and a pat on the head. Disgusted, he turned away, trying not to think of how unbelievably handsome the man was with that awful mask removed. Really, he thought, the mask was a more accurate picture of the monster than the perfect beauty was. He turned his head again, examining Asami more closely, wondering if that too was intended.

"You face is incredibly easy to read. I'll teach you to prefer this one of mine. We're linked now, you and I, and partners should be able to read one another without words."

The gag stopping his mouth was removed, but before he could say a word his mouth was forced wide by the lips and tongue of his captor. A familiar haze began to creep over him, and he struggled against it despite knowing he couldn't win. Not yet at any rate. He would never admit that the craving was strong enough to make him accept his situation. Never.

"You should have seen yourself, coming in front of them as they were dying, splattering their corpses with your seed. A most infertile ground. Such irony."

_No..._

"You knew they were dying, didn't you? And it made you come all the harder."

 _I..._ He tried to remember. He didn't, did he? Asami's mouth slipped down to tug at a nipple. 

"You've always wanted to be death's bride. So I've come to claim you. Now you'll always be mine." Slick fingers slipped inside him.

"I don't want..."

A tongue tapped against the underside of his cock, sending a wave of pleasure though him. "Don't want? This says you do."

"I hate you!"

"Oh I know you do, my beautiful Akihito. Why else would I want you?"

Asami's cock slid home and he came, briefly able to escape from the low mad laughter he heard in his ear.

 

\--

 

He fought it, he really did. 

He couldn't run of course, because his mission wasn't complete. And after all, he might be able to show Asami the error of his ways. It had nothing to do with the magnetic pull of those eyes, and how much he wanted to fall into the wild hilarity he saw there during their bloodiest moments.

So he kept to his rituals, even as day by day the vortex of insanity pulled him closer to its goal of dragging him into darkness.

But eventually, he began to see the reason behind the madness in Asami's eyes. It all started making sense. There was a beauty in the chaotic spray of blood. There was something right about choosing a victim at random, just to make the survivors appreciate life. And, he had to admit, the moment when all masks fell, well, it was a little amusing.

It's not to say that Asami didn't begin to appreciate his love of the solemn ritual, though it might be more fair to say that from time to time he indulged his young lover. Because he always did try to leave a squirting flower or rubber chicken if Takaba didn't watch him. It was, Takaba thought fondly, a game of theirs. Just one of the games that had taught him to loosen up a little.

Not to stop fighting, no. It was right to fight, but Asami wasn't the enemy. He'd been so wrong about that. Society, with its fear of death, conventions that made no sense, false strictures imposed by years of nonsensical traditions- those were the enemies. They were the sorts of things clowns were created to make fun of.

So every so often they put on their masks. He applied Asami's, and Asami carefully applied his. They'd put them on and perform a special show for an audience of just one or two who seemed to need a lesson in hilarity. They never left them laughing, but hey, some people just can't take a joke.

 

~end~

 

 

Omake 1, Learning to Compromise

 

Asami pulled back and nuzzled the bruise on his neck, nipping it. "We have a job, a legitimate job. Are you interested? Would you like to try show me the beauty of death again? Who knows, perhaps you could finally change me." It was said in the same mocking voice he used to use onstage.

"You'll never understand."

"Maybe you could be the one to make me. You're the only one I'll ever let try. It's an older woman with cancer. She wants to die now before it eats away at her. I thought perhaps putting her into a large hamster ball and rolling her down Mt Fuji..."

"That's not funny!"

"Now, now, who's the clown here? Please leave judgments like that to the professional."

"You're insane."

"We've been over that before. If you have another idea about how she should die, I might allow it. In honor of you joining the team. Your choice, hamster ball or....?"

Takaba closed his eyes wearily. "We'll give her a sedative. I'll sit with her until she goes. You will not wear that makeup. You will stand quietly and respectfully to the side until she passes on. No jokes. No cruelty. Are we clear?"

"So clear, Takaba. So clear and pure of purpose." Asami smiled gently, and somehow it was more terrifying than any grimace he'd worn onstage. "I cannot wait to dirty you. Welcome, my sweet partner. Let's celebrate with wine and rape! I'm so good you'll be begging for it."

Takaba sighed. "If you can make me beg for it, then it won't exactly be rape."

"Oh my clever boy. It never was, was it? That's the whole joke."

Takaba vowed to kill him as soon as he could. Though he might wait until they had sex again.

He fucking hated clowns.

 

Omake 2 (& 3): Shinobi Play

 

"Takaba..."

"No."

"I'll stop bringing up the hamster ball for a whole week."

"One month."

"Two weeks."

"Three weeks."

"Done." Asami leaned back on the bed with a satisfied smirk. "Well then? I'm waiting." 

With a sigh Takaba twisted his fingers about in the first technique he'd ever learned. "Kagebunshin no Jutsu." Two clones appeared beside him. "Sorry, guys." They looked at each other. 

"We don't mind," said One. 

"We honestly don't," said Two. He looked at the other. "Heads or Tails?"

"Does it matter?" One was already stripping eagerly.

"Not really." Two was already naked.

Together they buried Asami in an aerial assault. "Banzai!"

 

Omake 3:

 

"Kagebunshin no Jutsu," said the deep voice.

The bed sank behind him with the weight of a familiar body, and though he couldn't speak with the heavy cock halfway down his throat, he moaned in a way that made his thoughts clear. 

_Oh fuck yes._

 

 

~end~


End file.
